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RANS ROMANY 

AxN ORIGINAL PLAY, 

(In Five Acts,) 






HENRY HILL, (Jouraalist,) 



Newark, N. J. 



Dramatized from his Story of same Title. Copyrighted 

1873. 



Entered accordiug to Act af Cougreas in the year 1876, by Henby Hill, in the Office of the 
Librarian of Congress at Washington. 






TMP96-006409 



[From the ICssex Con'>tyPre'!s,lsfc(Vdli, N. J.] 
Mr. Hill's Play— Rans JRoma'»»y 

We give to-day on our second page the 
concluding scene of Mr. Heniy Hill's melo - 
drama. We have published this literary 
production, rurning now through five 
weeks, because we were sure our readers 
would find it good matter. From the many 
commendations on every side we a-e glad 
to record that we we:.e not mistaken. Mi. 
Hill gave a reading of his play at Lyric 
Hall on the 7th instant, before the Home 
Dramatic Association, on which occasion 
there was a very select audience, a number 
of persons prominent in dramatic . musical 
and literary circles being present. In an 
esplanatoiy prologae he said ; 

Ladies and gentlemen — The title of my 
play is Rans Eomany. Eans is pronounced 
as if spelt "iiance." It is a contraction or 
nickname for Eandolph, Eansom or Rans- 
ford. Vandervoort, the Broad street drug- 
gist, was known among his schoolfellows as 
Rans, and Randolph Rogers, the sculptor, is 
known all through Michigan, his native 
State, as Eans Rogers. About the word 
Eomany, all will recognize a distinct gipsy 
flavor. Whether because the gipsies exit ..- 
ed in large numbers m Eoumania, or be- 
cause in the (Manush) gipsy d'alect Eom 
was masculine and Eommi feminme, "Rom- 
any" or "Eommany" has become the gener- 
ic term for the si,i.'olling bands who inlest 
the suburbs of large cities in summer aud 
occupy the dives and cellars of disreputable 
localities in the winter; or migrating, live 
in the open air all the year. All the ency- 
clopcedies agree that these people belong to 
the dangerous classes. Their own opinion 
of themselves may be inferred from the fol- 
lowing song in their language given by 
Chambers : 

'•Poraquel lucbipen abajo 
AbiUela un halichoro, 



Abiilela goli go'i 
Ustilame Caloro." 
"There lans a swine down yonder b^H 
As fast as e'er he can. 
And as he lans he crieth still 
'C>me st-eal me, gipsy man.' " 

In this play I have endeavored to keep 
up tne action, even at .he expense of the 
di.p^ogae. My characters will t?lk as men 
f d women do talk. For the ordinary s?l- 
uiaiions of daily l:fe blank verse will be 
'jtar'lojsly avoided. Instead oj! say'n.ar, 
' Ho N doih your noble excellency on this 
6un-giided and propitious mo-nf Mr. Du- 
Dois will simply say to Mr. Godfrey : "How 
ave you, olu boy; I'm right glad to see you." 
AVitli kindly regard to unknown stage car- 
penters, care has be^n taken to avoid ask- 
ing them to perform impossibilities; and it 
is believed that boih audience and supernu- 
maries will be spared the unpleasrnt spec- 
i.acle, and the arduous laoor, of dragging off 
tijtniture ^'etween the scenes. It is hoped 
and believed that while the several parts 
wJl pfford s'-ooe for ihe exercise of strong 
dramatic talent, yet tbey will not require 
the conjoined efforts of all the kings and 
queens of the stage, but that with'n the re- 
sources of the Home Dramatic Association 
can he found abundant strength for pre- 
sentation in a manner which shall realize 
the ideals of the author; and with these re- 
marks I will introduce my characters to 
what I fondly hope may be your favorable 
acquaintpnce. 

During the reading, which occupied one 
hour aad twenty minutes, the applause was 
frequent, and at the close the author W£"S- 
enthusiastically called before the curtain. 
The notices of the press must have been 
gratifying to him, as they have all been 
kindly, and in most cases highly flattering. 
It is understood that Mr. Hill will offer bis 
play to the metropolitan managers, 



BANS EOMAEl. 



PERSONS REPRESENTED : 

MR. DUBOIS— A retired New York merchant, 
residiu2' on Orange mountain, 

MR. GODFREY — A prominent Newark manu- 
facturer, and the friend of Mr. Dubois. 

RANS ROMANY— A young mechanic, and 
Mr. Godfrey's foreman. 

PHIL CARROL— Romany's friend. 

BIG JIM— A Gipsy Chief. 

JAKE— A Gipsy. 

SOGGY — A Gipsy, and coachman of Mr. Du- 
bois. 

DR. ALEXANDER— A physician. 

CAP1\ WILEY— Chief of Detectives. 

LUCY— Daughter of Mr. Dubois. 

MRS. LAWRENCE— Housekeeper to Mr. Du- 
bois. 

DINAH — Colored servant in the household of 
Mr. Dubois, addicted to Jubilee songs. 

BIG MOLL— A Gipsy. Big Jim's wife, and 
maid of all work at the Dubois mansion. 
Robbers, detectives, etc 



ACT I. 



SCENE I— [Mr: Dubois' library. Mr, 
Dubois seated at table reading letters.] 

Mr. D. — [Pulls bell rope and scans a su- 
perscription.] 

Ah ! this is from Godfrey, probably ex- 
plaining why he has not been up this week. 
What a beautiful business hand Godfrey 
does write. Handwriting don't prove very 
much, but it's a good sign. [Opens the 
letter.] What ! what ! Only a letter to 
Lucy, enclosed without remark I [Exam- 
ines Lucy's letter.] Unsealed ! therefore 
he means that I shall lead it, and deliver 
if its contents meet my approval. Ha, ha, 
ha, ha ! Anybody migbt easily see what 
all this means. He is attracted by Lucy's 
loveliness, and well might any man be. 80 
like — so like ner dear dead mother. [Opens 
Lucy's letter and reads aloud.] 

Mt Dear Miss Dubois : 

As I am a business man, I take this method 
of saying ^o you by letter, instead of in the 
usual way, what you must have already sur- 
mised — that my regard for you has auiimented 
daily since our acquaintance began, and that I 
offer you my nand in marriage, Sincerely hop- 
ing that the same may be accepted. 

Yours respectfully and very truly, 

fETEK Godfrey. 

How beautiful ! How respectful 1 How 
delicately managed ! Well, this is indeed a 
pleasure; and not altogether unexpected. 
Godfrey's a splendid fellow — good lofiking, 
well established in business, rich enough, 
habits formed, youug enough — yes, plenty 
young eudugh. The very man of all my 



acquaintance whom t would have selected 
for my son-in-law. Yea, Godfrey, you 
shall have the young thing's fli'st loVe, with 
my heartiest consent. [Rings again] The 
thought of having the dear girl so settled in 
life rejoices me beyond expression. If her 
mother were still living,a little delay would 
probably be advisable; but as it is, the 
sooner the wedding takes place the better. 
Ha, ha, ha ! Won't it be fun to be my old 
friend's father ! 

Dinah [singing, ofE the stage.] 
"Roll Jordan roll, 
Roll Jordan roll, 
I want to go to Heaven when I die; 
T' hear Jordan roll." 

[Enters.] 
I's heah, Massa Dubois. 

Me. D. — Dinah, you must answer the 
bell more promptly. This is the second 
time I have had to ring. 

Dinah — Is dat so, Massa Dubois? Well 
well ! dat's too bad. You see I was out 
by de stable, and de coachman says to tell 
you, Massa Dubois, dat de horse is saddled 
and ready down at de front gate. Golly, 
ain't dat a nice boss ! He walked all de 
way down from de stable on his hind 
legs, makin' gestures with his hands. 
Hey ah ! hey ah ! heyah ! jest like our 
preacher. You better stick on mighty 
tight, Massa Dubois, onto dat horse, or 
you'll 

Mr. D— Silence ! 

Dinah [sotto voce] "Roll Jordan roll." 

■ Me. D — Where is Miss Lucy? 

Dinah — She's up on de balcony, feedin' 
de canaries. 

Me. D. —Is she alone ? 

Dinah — Yes, Massa Dubois. 

Me D. — Hand this letter to her, and 
then say to Mrs. Lawrence that I am going 
out for a short ride, and shall be back in 
time for dinner. 

Dinah — Yess, Massa Dubois. "Roll 
Jordan RolL" [Exit.] 

Me. D. — Now I will answer Godfrey's 
letter. [Writes and reads aloud.] 

My Dear Godfrey : 

Yours received with its enclosure, which 
meeting my heartiest approval, has been de- 
livered. We shall leave on Saturday for Lake 
Bopatcong, where we intend to remain one 
w.eelv. Come up sav, on Wednesday, and 
meet us tfiere. I will not say more than that 
your presence will be a pleasure to all of us. 
Mrs. Lawr^^uce, our housekeeper, will accom- 
pany Lucy, and I shall not mention to either 
of the ladies that I expect you. 

As ever, yours truly, 

John Dubois, 



There ! that's what I call a discreet let- 
ter. Even if it should be miscarried, it 
does not betray the secret of Lucy's en- 
gagement; and bringing the lovers together 
at the lake is a brilliant stroke of diplomacy. 
[Draws on his gloves.] There the turtle 
doves can coo to their heart's content. Now 
I will ride down to Orange and mail this; 
then take a short turn in the park. [Looks 
at his watch.] Yes, I have plenty of time. 
How venerable I shall feel witb a married 
daughter, and a son-in-law forty years old. 
Grandfather Dubois ! Ha^ ha, ha, ha ha ! 
[Exit.] 

SCENE II— [The back road. Dense 
forest, with one large tree near roadside.] 
Enter uipsy Jake. 
[Removes bark on the tiee and discovers 
a message.] 

Jake— Ho! ho! What's this? The 
old password of ten years ago ! Big Jim's 
out o' Jail ! Hello ! here's writin' on 
th other side. [Reads.] "Wait here lor 
me, if it's all day and all night." 

[Enter Big Jim. They recognize each 
other slowly.] 

Jim — Well, what's to say? Post me 
quick 'bout things. 
Jake — How did ye get out ? 
Jim — Don't ask me ho questions; answer 
mine. Never you mind where I've been,or 
how long. I'm here now, and that's 
enough. Where's Moll? Where the 
camp ? Come, hurry up ! [Raises his stick.] 
Jake — We ain't got no camp yet this 
year. Moll's at the big house on the front 
road. Hired out for all work. 

Jim — Any the rest of ogr folks there? . 
Jake — ^Yes, Soggy. 
Jim— What a doin' ? 
Jake — Coachman. 
Jim — How long a' they been there I 
Jake — 'Bout a month. 
Jm — That boy ever turned up ? 
Jake— What boy ? 

Jim — Why, my boy that run away from 
camp at the lake. 

Jake — He never run away. He was 
drownded. 

Jim — A boy o' mine drownded ! What 
are ye talkin' about ? Ye might as well 
try to drown a musk rat. No, no; that 
boy ain't in the bottom of no lake. He'll 
be on top allers, ond he'll come back some- 
time to take command. Don't ye know 
the little brat made the boat hinaself what 
he went away in ? Talk about your pat- 
ent locks ! No lock '11 ever keep that boy 
out of a warehouse or a bank. Poor little 
Rans 1 I never quite got over hie goin' 



away, but the little cus'll turn up again, 
sure. [Listens.] You ain't no gipsy, you 
loafin' tramp I Don't you hear that horse 
a-comin' ? [Exeunt.] 



SCENE III.— [Balcony of the ' ubois 
mansion; moonlight; Orange Valley, Ber- 
gen Heights, etc., in the distance. Full 
moon over the house. Lucy Dubois dis- 
covered standing, with a letter in her hand]. 

LuoT — O, how beautiful ! What a flood 
of light the moon sends down. It fills the 
valley like a golden sea; it gilds the smt)ke 
of Newark's factories like a sunset; Staten 
Island swims in it. a purple paradise; but it 
cannot quench the bright Aurora with 
which the lamps of the great city fringe the 
heights of Bergen, nor the twinkling stars 
which gleam among the foliage of the val- 
ley, marking the homes of so many dear, 
good friends. How the odors of the 
flowers steal upon my senses. Well may 
my father say that in all the Orient there is 
not the peer of Orange Valley ! 

And in all the world no girl has so good 
a father as I. 

And yet I am so unhappy ! Oh, ray 
mother ! If the spirits of the departed can 
indeed return and be invisibly near to those 
they love — be near nae now in my unhappi- 
ness. 

How strange this world is I [Looks at 
the letter.] But yesterday I could greet my 
father's friend with all my father's warmth; 
and now, when he tells me that he loves 
me and wants me to be his wife, I shudder 
at his very name. 

[Enter Mrs. Lawrence.] 

Mrs. L. — Why my dear Lucy, you are 
very imprudent to be thus exposing your- 
self to the night air. These charming 
nights are very deceptive. Believe me, 
chills are lurking in these innocent moon- 
beams. [Places a shawl upon her 
shoulders.] 

Ltjot — Thank you, Mrs. Lawrence. It is 
true that the moonbeams are deceptive; and 
what is not, in this strange world, unless 
indeed it be clouds and tears ! 

Mrs. L. — ^You are melancholy, my 
child. Why so sad ? you who have every- 
thing to make you happy. 

Ltjct — It is a sudden impulse, Mrs. Law- 
rence, but with your kind permission, I 
would so like to make a confidante of you, 
in a matter respecting which I wonder I do 
not feel greater embarrassment. 

Mk8. L.— Most assuredly, my dear Lucy, 
I shall be most happy to be the recipient of 
your confidence, especially if I can be of 



any service to one whom I regard so dearly. 
LuoT — Well, then, will you please read this 
letter? [Hands her Mr. Godfrey's letter.] 
Stand here in the moonlight. Is it not like 
a day? 

[Mrs. L. reads the letter in silence.] 

Mes. L. — This affair, my dear, is one of 
the greatest importance. No offer could 
well be more eligible. My judgment bids 
me to heartily congratulate you. Mr. God- 
frey is a gentleman in every sense. That 
he is prosperous in business we all know. 
He is your father's warmest friend. That 
he will be a good and loving husband and 
give you always a good home, I am almost 
certain. To be entirely frank with you, I 
will say that I regard this offer as a very 
eligible one indeed; [Lucy sighs] if your 
heart is not already involved in some other 
direction, and I think I should have di- 
vined it if so. 

Ltjoy — But it is, Mrs. Lawrence ! No, 
it is not ! O what shall I do ? O, Mrs. 
Lawrence, you must be my mother in this 
affair, and I will tell you all. 

Mks. L. — Certainly, my dear girl; keep 
nothing back. I have been inexpressibly 
grateful to you all for makina no inquiries 
as to my past life, but I will merit your 
confidence now by giving you mine. I 
was a mother once, but my beautiful babe 
was not permitted to live. My heart went 
with it into the grave. It was a great 
grief, but a greater pushed it aside, for 
news came that I should never see my hus- 
band again on earth. Then instantly my 
hair turned white 1 So. darling, you will 
perceive that your adviser and confessor 
knows something experimentally of the 
heart's secrets. Tell me all, dear, and you 
shall have my best counsel and advice. 

Ltjoy — I hardly know how to begin,Mr8. 
Lawrence, but 

Me8. L.— Go on, my dear. 

Ltjoy — Well, now don't call me a foolish 
thing. 

Mks. L. — Indeed, my child, you will al- 
most tempt me to do so if you do not go on 
with your story. 

Lttoy — Well, When I was at Long 
Branch last year, a child was caught in the 
surf^ — a beautiful, golden-haired child. The 
father, a New York gentleman, called fran- 
tically upon the bathers to save it. No one 
dared move, and the great sea carried its 
prize slowly off. Suddenly there was a 
movement in the crowd. A young man 
leaped down the bluff. He flashed across 
the intervening beach, and plunging through 
the surf, reached the child. Holding it 
aloft with one strong arm, with the other 



he buffeted the bold robber. Slowly he 
neared the shore, then a returning wave 
hurled him back. Once, twice, thrice it 
was repeated; then a cry of horror rose 
upon the air, as above the glassy water, be- 
yond the outer line of breakers, the dorsal 
fin of a great shark was seen moving slow- 
ly towards him. A cumulative wave 
pushed him landward. He disappeared as 
it broke around and over him, but touching 
the sand with his feet, he strode majestical- 
ly ashore, holding the child aloft; and the 
shark shook his tail angrily as lie 
plunged Bullenlyback into the sea. The crowd 
were electrified ! They caught up my hero 
and bore him off in triumph. The father 
followed, vainly attempting to reward him. 
O, Mrs. Lawence, he was beautiful ! I 
know you will say I am a poor, weak, fool- 
ish girl, but that unknown young man has 
haunted me ever since, with his great black 
eyes. He comes to me in my dreams ! I 
know not who he is; I shall never see him 
again. But he is my ideal. I shall never 
be his, but I can never, never be another's. 
Mrs. L. [after a long pause.] — I cannot 
give you my advice to-night, Lucy, but I will 
think of the matter. Meanwhile do nothing 
rashly. Mr, Godfrey will not expect an 
immediate answer, and the respectful deli- 
cacy of his proposal is most complimentary 
to you Come, let us go in The air is 
chilly, and it is time for us all to retire. 
[Exeunt.] 

ACT II. 

SCENE I— [Lake Hopatcong. Rans 
Romany and Phil Carrol encamping on the 
shore.] 

Phil — Rans, you're a trump ! I never 
saw such a fellow. You always know just 
what to do and just how to do it ! Even 
in the matter of pleasure seeking your head 
is always level. When other fellows 
would stay in town, spending their money 
in worse than foolishness, you put off to 
the seashore or the mountams, and for half 
the expense have a thousand times more 
sport; and here you are, only twenty-one, 
and made foreman over men old enough to 
be your grandfather. Just look at this 
camp. In this sunrise light it seems to me 
the most lovely spot on earth. How did 
you know about this tree ? How did you 
come straight here ? 

Rans — I have known this tree for many 
years. You give me too much credit, Phil. 
There is certainly no great wisdom in se- 
lecting this method of spending a few days, 
as compared with those you have men 



lioned. Every man to his taste, and if our 
tastes were not alike I suppose we wouldn't 
be friends and be here together. 

Phil — Yes, I suppose that's so. 1 say, 
Rans, next year I shall be of age, and as 
my father has plenty of money, I've been 
thinking that you and I might go together 
in business and open a shop. What do you 
say? 

Rans — U well, Phil, I would like to be 
in business with yoa, of course, better than 
with any one I know; but I'm doing very 
well where I am. Five dollars a day, with 
an occasional vacation, isn't bad for a 
young fellow with no one but himself to 
support. Do you know, Phil, I'd rather be 
a mechanic than a clerk in the best estab- 
lishment in the city. Besides, they say 
those clerks have to give cords of refer- 
ences. 

Phil — Well, I suppose it's easy enough 
for any honest man to give good I'eferences 
Rans — I don't know about that. I trust 
that I'm an honest man; in fact I know I 
am; but to tell you the truth,Phil, it would 
bother me to give the references necessary 
for a clerkship in any kind of a store. 

Phil — Your surprise me, Rans, and 
while I don't want to be inquisitive, I 
would like to know your history; that is, 
such portions of it as you wish to speak of. 
Rans [aside — Yes, here it is again. My 
infernal antecedents rising in my pathway 
like a ghost, to impede my progress.] 
Phil, you and I are friends. You have in- 
timated to day what I have never dreamed 
of. With your money, and the knowledge 
we could both bring to the business, we 
could do more and better work than most 
of the shops. But it can never be. You 
would be entitled to know what I never 
could tell, even to you. 

Phil — Rans Romany, you say that you 
are an honest man. Let me add that 1 
know it, too. You are over sensitive upon 
some point, and my advice to you is that 
you tell me, your best friend, what this 
secret of yonrs is. I'll warrant it amounts 
to nothing. 

Rans — You speak so kindly and sincere- 
ly, Phil, that I'm half inclined to tell you 
what no living soul but you could have 
wormed out of me. 
. Phil — "Wormed out !" Rans! 

Rans— Forgive me, Phil; I didn't mean 
that, upon my word, and atter what I have 
said, I see plainly that I must go on and 
say more, or you will imagine things even 
worse than they are. It is confidential ? 
Phil —Of course, of course; strictly so. 



Rans— Well then, Phil Carrol, you are 
associating with and for two years have 
been the bosom friend of a gipsy. I'll 
make a clean breast of everything. That's 
how I knew this tree. My father and 
mother encamped here man}'' years ago. 
When I once see a place I never forget it. 
My father was a nicy man ! You should 
have seen him ! He was a beauty ! Upon 
my word he was the worst looking villam I 
.ever saw. He was sent to State Prison for 
horse stealing about ten years ago. But 
the most charming and delectable creature 
was my mother ! I suppose there's where 
I get my fair complexion, for she was as . 
black as an Indian. Enough to say that 
she's a New York sneak thief, and only 
plays gipsy in the summer. I ran away 
from them eleven years ago, and deserted 
from this very spot. I was only ten years 
old, but I made a bark canoe and paddled 
across the lake; then I pushed straight on 
through the woods, and travelled till I came 
to what seemed to me a great city, which 
proved to be Newark. Then I went from 
shop to shop asking for work, till I was 
engaged in the foundry of Peter Godfrey. 
I presume that the fear of being caught by 
my parents caused me to be industrious, but 
a natural mechanical ability was also of 
service, and Peter Godfrey is the best man 
on earth to work for. So I have been pro- 
moted from bench to bench, till I am fore- 
man of the whole establishment. I have 
no fear of being discovered now. I should- 
know them, but they would not know me, 
changed as I am, and if they should, I'm 
of age now and my own master "How 
dost thou like like the picture ?" as the man 
said whom I saw in the play. 

Phil — Well, Rans. what of all this? 
You can't be blamed for the acts of others. 
It's a new proposition to my mind, but if a 
Dp(an is to be rejected because his parents 
were bad, then it follows that another 
should be accepted and trusted because his 
parents were good, and everybody knows 
that isn't so. You and I both know young 
fellows who are beneath contempt, whose 
fathers are the best men in society. "It's 
a poor rule that don't work both ways;" so 
here's my hand. I think none the less of 
you, but all the more, for being what you 
are under the circumstances. 

Rans — Don't deceive yourself, Phil. 
When you're older you'll change your mind. 
Your father would think you were a fool to 
trust a man with my antecedents. You 
know the saying about chips of the old 
block ? Well, I'm a chip of the old block 



in many respects. See how I love boating 
and fisliing, camping out, living in the 
woocls; see how few confidential friends I 
have; how different I am from most people. 
I often think I'm two-thirds Indian. 

Phil — Rans,my father is a sensible man, 
and he could not tail to declare wiih me 
that the course you have pursued stamps 
you iudelibly as an honest man; and all the 
mure so because you have been honest un- 
der the greatest difficulties. 

Rans — No, no, Phil; stop. I appreciate 
your kindne s, but there would be moments 
of doubt, and less than absolute confidence 
is absolute distrust. I am doomed to ob- 
scurity, and let it go. You may think me 
deficient in what the world calls 
natural affection; but cubs generally are. 
I'm a cub — that's all, and they treated me 
like a cub. It was a personal question with 
me, and I delioerately concluded thnt if my 
parents were vagabonds and thieves, they 
had no claim upon me, and I was not bound 
to them by any legal or moral obligations; 
so now lets change the subject. 

Look, Phil ! look ! where the sun strikes 
that forest across the lake. How the col- 
ors blend like the colors of a rainbow ! See 
that yellow oak and that red maple ! How 
they contrast with that diirk ixveen liemlock 
alongside ! < ', October I October ! The 
pleasantest month of all the year. The 
sun is warm, but not too warm. The 
equinoctial gales and storms are over. The 
squirrels are busy getting in their har- 
vest of nuts, and if the orchards and fields 
are bare, it is the barrenness of fruition 
and not of sterility. The thickset stubble 
tells the tale of fer ility as plainly as did 
the standing grain. The grain said "See 
here," but the stubble points to the garner. 

Phil — Rans, I swear to you everlasting 
fidelity. I never thought one half so much 
of you as I do to-day. Suppose we get our 
tackle ready and go out upon the lake. 

Rans — Yes, by all means, for you know 
I promised Mr. Godfrey I would 
be back to-niiiht. [They busy themselves 
with their tackle as the scene changes.] 



SCENE II.— [The back road; same as 
second scene first act] 

[Enter Bi^ Jim; examines secret recess in 
the tree; finds uo mesBage.] 

Jim — Things ain't as they used to be. 
Then there'd 'a been news here 'bout suth- 
in'. But I'll straighten 'em out, or I'll 
clean out this crowd and reorganize. 

[Enter Big Moll. I 

Moll— Why, Jim ! Is that ye ? O, 



murder ! murder I 'Ow gray ye are a git 
tin' ! 

Jim — Look a' 'ere. I'm ruther sensitive 
'bout this 'air o' mine, I am. Don't ye 
think I wear it ruther short for the fash- 
ion ? But now I take a good look at ye, 
you're a growin' beautiful in your old age. 
Them eyes is werry expressive. The whole 
mug is werry hard to beat. 

Moll — See 'ere, Jim, none o' this, or 
back ye go. If ye rough it on me one bit, 
you know werry well I can give ye another 
ten years as easy as turn my hand 
over. 

Jim — [advancing towards her, mtnaciug- 
ly] Ye kn^w so much, too. You're werry 
intelligent. Ye know ruther too much. 

Moll — Don't ye lay yer hand on me, 
Jim. I know this country roundabouts 
better'n you do now. Times is changed 
from what they was. 

Jim -Why, Moll, I jest wanted to kiss 

ye. 

Moll — Did ye, ti-ne ? 

Jim — In course I did, my darlint. [They 
embrace each other, and Moll weeps.] 
Come, there now, no more slobberin' Bus- 
ine,«8, business. 

Moll — When I heard ye was out I says, 
"I'll go myself and see hira; then things'll 
go right." They're all gone to the lake. 

Jim — And the coast is clear ? 

Moll — The coast is alius clear where I 
am; but don't do a thing till they get back; 
that's next week. Then the master's watch 
and pocket book and the ladies' jewelry 
will be in the swag; and don't ye see, too,it 
won't do to have the tiling take place vhile 
they're gone. They'd lay it to me, sure, 
but if we wait till they get back, then 
they'll say : -'Moll never done it; she'd a 
did it while we was K''>ue." Don't ye see ? 

Jim [aside — She allers did know a heap 
m(jre'n me. That boy got his brains from 
her.] or course ! What d'ye take me 
for ? Now hark ! These is the orders. 
I'll go to the lake and pipe 'em. When I 
see 'em start for home, I'll get on the same 
train and run right througii to New York 
for Cockeye and Banty. That day Jake 
'11 come to the kitchen door and ask you 
for suthin' to eat. He'll be, u tramp, and 
he won't know you nor Soggy. He'll jest 
sajf to you, "Big Jim'llbehere to-night, ''and 
arterwards you can tell Soggy, and he must 
Lave his dark Inntern ready. We'll be 
there tliat night at ten o'clock; d'ye under- 
stand ? 

Moll — Yes, that'll work. 

Jim — I thought so. The old man's on- 



deck yet. Now git, and I'll go t' the lake. 
[Exeunt, one R, one L.] 

SCENE III.— [In front of hotel at the 
lake. Mrs. Lawrence and Lucy seen at the 
parlor window. Dinah sitting outside, un- 
der the window.] 

Dinah — [Sings.] 

"Go down Moses, 

Way down in Egypt's land, 

Tell Die— 

Fharaoh— 

Let my people go; 
Tell ole— 
Pharaoh — 

Let my people eo." 

[The ladies express amusement in panto- 
mime. ] 

O goodness golly ! Ain't dis nice place 1 
but den 

•'I want to go to Heaven when I die, 
T' hear Jordan roll." 

Lake Packatongo's nice, but I reckon 
Jordan's a heap nicer, coz Jordan roll bet- 
ter. [Sings.] 

"Roll Jordan rol!. 
Roll Jordan roll." 

Guess more fishes dere, too. Guess dem 
fishes bigger, too. Guess dem dem two lit- 
tle fishes our ole preacher tole about when 
dey had dem five loaves o' bread, get 
aground in dis yere lake. But course 
can't expeck dese yere little ponds to be as 
big as de ribber Jordan. 

I want to eo to Heaven when I die, 
T' hear Jordan roll." 

Oh 1 goodness, gracious golly ! if dere 
don't come Mr. Godfrey. 

[Enter Mr. Godfrey, L, with valise and linen 
duster. Enter Rans and Phil, R, with valises 
and fishing baskets.] 

[The ladies disappear from the window, and 
a scream is heard.] 

Dinah — O, goodness gracious ! O, gra- 
cious goodness ! What is de matter wid 
Miss Lucy ? [Exit into hotel. ] 

Me. Godfrey [aside — I see, I see. Miss 
Dubois has been overcome with emotion at 
seeing me here unexpectedly. Well, I don't 
know as there's any use in beiuij excited. 
Her father and the housekeeper are with 
her. I can do nothing but be in the way. 
I will quietly register my name at the 
oflSce, and then send u^ my card.] Why, 
boys, how d'ye do ? 

Rans & Phil — How do you do, Mr. 
Godfrey ? 

Me. G. - -Well; what luck ? Had a good 
time? 

Rans — First rate, Mr. Godfrey. We're 
just starting for home, and I suppose we've 
no time to lose. 



Mr. G — [Looks at his watch.] O yes, 
you have fully five minutes to spare. 

Rans— You musn't get us left, Mr. God- 
frey. Our boat and tent are in charge of 
a farmer across the lake. Let me write in 
your memorandum book an order to deliver 
them to you. 

Me. G.— Thanks, Rans, thanks ! But I 
shall not do any fishing. I have just come 
up for (ahem!) for a little rest and recrea- 
tion. I shall spe d my time principally at 
the hotel. 

Rans — I understand that fish are very 
scarce at the hotel, but we've had elegant 
luck; fact is, we know just whei-e to go, 
where the sockdologers lie, in deep watfer. 
Look in here. [Opens basket.] 

Me G. —Splendid ! Splendid ! 

Rans— We have two baskets full, and 
you must take one. 

Me. G. — Can you snare them as well as 
not? 

Rans — Certainly, my dear sir, certainly 

Me. G. — I am exceedingly obliged. 

Phil [aside] — How that magnificent fel- 
low does fascinate everybody I must warn 
my sister Mary. I'm sorry, sorry, snrry, 
sorry lie's a Gipsy. 

Rans — Come, Phil; we must be going 
now. Goo:.-bye, Mr. Godfrey. 

Mr. G. — Good-bye, boys, take care of 
yourselves. Keep things straight, Rans, 
and tell the bookkeeper that I'll be back 
Monday morning. 

All— Good-bye! 

[Exeunt Rans and Phil, L; M^-. Godfrey 
into hotel, the landlord meeting him at the 
door. ] 

[Enter Big Jim, R; walks slowly across 
the stage; looks after Rans and Phil; re- 
turns and examines house closely, and exit 
R.] 



SCENE IV.— [Hotel parlor, Mr, Du- 
bois on sofa, reading New York p ipers; 
Lucy at piano; sings, making her own se- 
lections, or omit the singing; waiter delivers 
a card. ] 

Me. D.— Hello ! Why, Godfrey's here. 
[Lucy starts.] Tell the gentleman we shall 
be happy to see him here at once. [Exit 
waiter. ] 

Ltjoy — Oh, father ! I cannot, I can- 
not ! 

Me. D. — Don't be excited, my child. 
There will be abundant time for the discus- 
sion of this affair in all its bearings. I 
trust you will, for my sake, at least meet 
Mr. Godfrey with cordiality. 



LuoT — Certainly father, I sliall not fail 
to do so. 

[Enter Mr Godfrey.] 

Mk. D. — Why, Godfrey, my dear fellow, 
how are you ? Wiiea did you arrive at the 
lake? 

Mk Gt. — Ouly a few moments ago. But 
how is this ? [Advances and takes Lucj's 
haid.] I was informed that you had 
fainted, but I find you as fresh and hloom 
ing as ever. This is a welcome delivery 
from a painful solicitude. 

LuoT —Thank you, Mr. Godfrey. I am 
quite well, hut Mrs. Lawrence is suffering 
from vertigo f)r something of the sort. She 
is better, howc^ver, and will soon be with 
us, no doubt. It was but a slight attack. 

Mr G. — ' am very glad that no serious 
misfortune has occuned to mar your plea 
sure. 

Me. D. — Your presence here is certainly 
an excnedingly pleasant coincidence. Do 
you visit the lake often ? 

Me. G. — O >es; it has been a favorite re- 
sort with me for many years, and I am de- 
lighted to meet you here on this occasion. 
It will add very much to the pleasure of my 
visit. 

Lucy — Pray excuse me. Mr. Godfrey, 
for a moment, as Mrs. Lawrence may re- 
quire my attention [Exit.] 

Me. D.— I believe our harmless little 
ruse has not involved any real equivoca- 
tion? 

Mr. G. — Ha, ha, ha! 1 trust not, Mr. 
Hubois. 1 think we have both been quite 
guarrled in our language. 

Me. D. — Ahem ! Your arrival to-day is 
an indication that you reci-ived my letter 
acknowledging the receipt of yours to 
Lucy. 

Me. G. — Yes, sir; and permit me at once 
to thank you for the sentiments you were 
plea; ed to express; also to ask how m}' pro- 
posal was received on the part of Miss Du 
bois 

Me. D. — Well, Hhem ! Lucy receivid it 
very kindly, and told me that she had the 
highest respect for you, but your letter was 
such a complete surprise, that she required 
(ahem !) a little time for reflection. I will 
be perfectly frank with you. I told her 
that the proposal was one which was en- 
tirely agreeable to me, and one which I 
thought she could safely accept. I know 
that her affections cannot be enlisted in any 
other direction. Ho, Godfrey, court her to 
you heart's content, and I wish you every 
success. 

Me. G. — I thank you most 6incerely,Mr. 
Dubois. I am not skilled in such mttters. 



I am, as you know, a business man, sir; 
merely a business man. 

Mr D. — Now Godfrey, no self deprecia- 
ation. If there is one character which I 
respect and admire above all others, it is 
that of an honi,rable, high-toned, first class 
butfiness man, and such I consider you. 

Me. G. — Thanks, Mr. Dubois; thanks. 
I shall hope and strive to retain your good 
opinion, Does the position Mrs. Lawrence 
occupies in your family warrant me in 
supposing that she enjoys Miss Lucy's con- 
fidence ? 

Mr. D.— I think it does. You of 
course have observed that she is a very su- 
perior person. 

Me. G. — I confess she has impressed me 
very favorably. What >8*her history ? 

Me. D. — That we have never known. 
Slie was thoroughly vouched for by the 
Bishop and a number of very prominent 
families, and finding that any allusion to 
the past was painful to her, we have 
studiously avoided it. I only know that 
she has been a widow for several years, and 
I that she has from some source a small but 
regular income. 

Me. G. — Do you think it would be wise 
for me to enlist her good services in this af- 
fair of mine ? 

Me. D. — Capital idea ! Do it, Godfrey, 
by all means. Ha ! here f he comes 
now. I'll give you a clear field. 

[Eater Mrs. Lawrence ] 

Me. G. [advancing and extendius his 
hand, which she takes.]— Allow me to con- 
gratulate you, madam, upon your rapid re- 
covery. 

Mes. L. — Thank you, Mr. Godfrey. It 
was but a slight syncope, from which I am 
entirely recovered. 

Me D. — We are all as heartily rejoiced 
as we were seriously alarmed; and now will 
you please excuse me, as I have some ar- 
rangements to make. [Exit Mr. Dubois.] 

Me. G. — I presume you cannot be ignor- 
ant of the fact, Mrs. Lawrence, that I have 
made your young friend. Miss Dubois, an 
offer of marriage ? 

Mrs. L. [after a pause]— I half surmised 
as much, Mr. Godfrey. 

Mr: G. — Well, it is s'>, Mrs. Lawrence, 
and having the nighest confidence in your 
good judgment and discretion, I have con- 
cluded to ask your candid opinion upon the 
subject. 

Mes. L. — I am very proud, sir, to be 
considered worthy of your confidence, and 
shall be happy to render you or our young 
friend, any assistance in my power. Let 



me see, Mr. Godfrey, I really forget your 
age? 

Me. G. [considerably embarrassed] — I am 
forty- five. 

Mes. L. — Indeed ! I certainly should 
not have supposed it. Well, twenty-five 
years difference is not so much as it might 
be. I have heard of happy marriages 
where the discrepancy was even greater. 

Me. G. — Well, Mrs. Lawrence, we will 
talii further aljout this matter before I re- 
turn. 

Mes. L. — With pleasure, Mr. Godfrey. 
I think I possibly may be different from 
must women, but I confess I shall rather 
enjoy this mutual confidence. [Exit Mrs. 
Lawrence and enter Mr. Dubois.] 

Me. G. — That's a very handsome wo- 
man. 

Me. D. — I think so, too. Her gray hair 
is very becoming. How few women are 
sensible enough to let their hair alone when 
it turns. Bah ! Gray hair is magnificent 
when a woman's face and figure are youth- 
ful. 
Me. G. — How old do you supposesheis? 
Me. D. — Not over thirty-nine or forty. 
Mr. G —Indeed ! 

[Enter Mrs. Lawience and Lucy, and all 
take sdats. 

Me, G. — Well, ladie?, we are favored 
with beautiful weather, but I am told that 
fish are far from plenty this fall, and it re- 
quires great skill to capture them. 

Mes. L. — 1 have always wondered why 
you gentlemen of mechanical instincts and 
attainments have not invented some more 
skilful method for outwitting the denizens 
of the deep. 

Me. D.— True. For 3,000 years there 
has been no improvement The seine re- 
mains the most perfect appliance, and 
never a draught yet has exceeded that of 
Gennesaret. 

LxroY — For ray part, I'm glad enough 
that men can't get them. I think it's just 
as bad for men to catch fish as it would be 
for fish U) catch men. 

Mes. L. — The fish began it. There is 
uo account of any whaling voyage till long 
after Jonah's time. 

[Gei)eral chorus of laughter. ] 
Me G. — At all events, we are fortunate. 
My foreman has been here several days, en- 
joying his vacation, and meeting him upon 
my anival, he pressed upon me a basket of 
the finest pickerel I have ever seen; so our 
table will be supplied with fish diet, how- 
ever it may be with the other guests. And 
by the by, I must teli you about that young 
fellow. In the first place, he is the best 



lodking fellow I ever saw — tall, swarthy, 
with an eye like an eag'e's; he looks like a 
natural born king; and for abilit}', altliough 
he is only twenty-one, I have no man in my 
establishment that can at all equal him. I 
have made him foreman over them all, and 
there are at the present time some three 
hundred, very many of them gray-haired ; 
but they accept his promotion gracefully, 
and are all as proud of him as I am. I be- 
lieve he is the youngest foreman in the 
country. 

Mr. D.— It is certainly a remarkable 
case I should be almost afraid to place 
such important trusts in the hands of so 
young a person. What are his antece- 
dents"? 

Me G. — It is a romantic story. He 
came to me some eleven years ;ig-o,from the 
street, asking for work I was attracted 
by his bright eye and handsome face, and 
sent him to the foundry. Presenth^ he was 
discharged by the Superintendent. Some- 
thing led me to inquire into the particulars, 
and I found that his offence consisted of an 
improvement which he hadmade,'ind wliich 
the Superintendent desiied to claim for 
himself. I at once promoted him and dis- 
charged his accuser, j'.nd fri m that diiy to 
this his life has b' en a continud succession 
of mechanical triumphs. While all the 
rest, including myself, were running in old 
ruts, that boy was f rever suggesting ideas 
to save shafting, or pulleys, or belting, or 
to increase speed an^! save power. His in- 
genuity has saved tne thousjnds of ( ollars. 
One day the owner- of an ocean steimer 
came to me ti say that their ves.'-el, iidver- 
ti-ed to sail in one week, had broken her 
main shaft short off in turning over her 
wheels at the wharf. 

Me D.— How couh) that be ? 
Me. G — -AYhy. veryeasil\. The strain 
is much greater with a vessel m^ide fast, 
than when she is free to move ; besides, an 
old flaw that had been strainctl and sti-ined 
at -I a, I suppose at last puted in poit. At 
all events, it broke, and the greatest se- 
c;e\ hal to be observed. Hence a Newark 
rather than a New York fiim was consult- 
ed. The \ oung m in wa.-, then eighteen 
years old, ■■ nd as he happened to be piss- 
ing through the office; and I didn't know 
what 10 d(i, I Said to Jiim : "Wait, look 
at thi»." He at once said : "That can be 
fixed. Of course she must have a new 
shaft, but she can make a trip or two,if it is 
important '' He took a pei.cil and made a 
hastj'' drawing, wliich I at once saw was 
practicable, and we locked up the etigine 



room while we mended tbe shaft. That 
steamer made four trips before she was 
withdrawn for the puttiug in of a new one. 
But excuse me, ladies, we are talking ra- 
ther too mucli about machinery for your 
taste, I fear. 

Mrs.L. — Go on, go on. I for one am in 
tensely interested. 

LuoY — And I. too, am enjoying hugely 
your graphic account of your Apollo — your 
Vulcan — yonr Tubal Cain. 

Mr. D. — IIow did you fix it ? 

Me. G. — We cut grooves in the 
shaft, one inch deep, four inches wide 
and three feet long. We made six of 
the.-^e, and lai 1 in keys four inches square 
and the full lengih of the grooves. We held 
the keys to their plac s by 
three wide bands ot iron, with flanges 
thoroughly bolted on 

Me. D. — Yes, I see; I see. 

Me. G. — Why, I really believe that shaft 
.was stronger than ever; but if it had been 
known, nobody would have gone on the 
steamer. It saved about ten thousand dol- 
lars. I received liberal pay for that job 
and of course made him a handsome pres- 
ent. 

Me. D. — Certainly a very remarkable 
young man. 

Me. G. — Once we were short of power 
and I was about to throw out our engine — 
you know the one we now use, Mr. JDubois 
— and put in one of greater capacity. The 
change would have cost me about six thous- 
and dollars. ''Increase her speed," said 
he, *'aud you will gain fifiy hor,se power," 
and I found it to be true. We increased 
the number of revolutions per minute 50 
per cent., and wq got 50 per cent increase 
of power. Since then all tlie principal en- 
gine builders have adopted the same sys- 
tem. 

Me. D. — I have noticed that we never see 
slow moving enuines now a-dnys, unless 
they are very old. But would not this 
change you speak of, alter the speeds all 
through your establishment ? 

Me. G. — not at all; he simplj'- changed 
the pulley on the main shaft, and put on 
one of the right diameter. 

Me. D. — I see, I see. 

Me. G. — We had power enough all the 
time, only we had not utilized it. Oh, I 
could go on for an hour ! I consider him 
one of the foremost mechanics of the age, 
young as he is, and I predict that he will 
rise to distinction among tlie eminent en- 
gineers, perhaps rivaling Watt, Arkwright 
or Full on. 



Mrs. L. — You will think it, perhaps, a 
queer remark for a lady to make; but, gen- 
tlemen, neither statesmen, warriors, pbisol- 
ophers, poets, authors or artists, have ever 
awakened the enthusiasm in my mind, 
which is aroused by the mention of the 
great inventors. 

Mr. D. — That hydrauMc ram, Godfrey, 
which I had put in last year, to force the 
water up the mountain to my house, is per- 
fectly worthless. I think you had better 
send that young man up on your return, to 
look at it. 

Me. G.— All right, Mr. Dubois; I'll do 
so. [Makes a niemnrandum in his book.] 

Me. G. — We shall return early in the 
week; let him come up next Wednesday. 

Me. G. — I will not foiget it, aud he'll 
send the water spinning up the hill,it' it can 
be done. 

[Landlord announces dinner. Gentlemen 
ffive their arms to the ladies. Gong sounds as 
curtain falls.] 



ACT III. 

SOENE I.— [The Dubois mansion. Car- 
riage i^ate open. Boggy at work near sta- 
ble door.] 

[Enter Rans,] 

Bans — I wish to see Mr. Dubois. 

Soggy — What d'ye want ? 

Rans — I wish to see Mr. Dubois. 

Soggy — He's not at home, sir. 

Rans — When will he be at home ? 

Soggy — I'm gittin' ready to go to the de- 
pot for 'em now, sir. 

Rans — I have come to examine the 
water works. Where is the spring ? 

Soggy — Down yonder a ; the foot of the 
hill, sir. 

Rans — Show me where the water comes 
in. 

Soggy — What, from that spring, sir ? 

Rans — Yes. 

Soggy — It don't come in nowhere, not 
enough to water a fly. The pipes is in the 
stable; right in this way, sir. [Both enter 
stable.] 

[Jake passes out irom behind house and 
goes down the road, as a tramp.] 

[Moll comes from behind the house to 
stable door.] 

Moll — Big Jim'll be here to night at 10 
o'clock. .Take was just here. [Returns.] 

[Enter Rans, from stable, making mem- 
oranda in his book, but watching Moll.] 

Moll — Chickee, oliick, chickee ! chickee 
ehiek, cluck, chick, chick ! Come cldck, 
come chick ! [Exit.] 

Soggy [making much noise in stable] — 
Whoa there ! Stand around ! Whoa, I 



sayf 

Rans [advancing towards footlights] — 
Merciful Heaven f My mother ! My fa- 
ther's term of imprisonment expired, and 
they are to rob this house to-night I The 
coachman one of the gang ! "Honor thy 
father and thy mother, that thy days may 
be long in the land," Then I am flying in 
the face of Heaven if I prevent this rob- 
bery I Then it is wrong to do right ! No, 
that cannot be ! Stop! — "That thy days 
may be long in the land." Why yes ! 
that's the penalty. If these two roads are 
to be forever placed before me to perplex 
my mind and drive me mad; if I am to 
find my life forever running oarallel. with 
this vile gang, let my days not be long in 
the land ! Welcome death, and the sooner 
the better ! I will not honor the man and 
the woman who dishonor me, and them- 
selves, and humanity, and God, let the 
penalty be what it may ! It will be a des- 
perate business, but what of that ? What 
have I to live f )r ? This gentleman is Mr. 
Godfrey's friend. I will return Mr. God- 
frey's goodness to me by defending his 
frieud, or die in the attempt. Ah ! that 
must be the man Jake, going down the 
road. I'll capture him. [Exit] 

SCENE II.— [Police station,] 

[Enter Captain Wiley; sounds a gong 
bell.] 

[Officer enters and salutes.] 

Capt. — I have just heard that the big 
gipsy's time is up, and that he has been 
seen on the railroad. ■ 

Officer — The one sent up about ten 
jear.-i ano for stealing those horses ? 

Capt. — Yes. He's a desperate fellow, 
and will he worse than ever. He'll be 
quite likely to operate on his old ground, 
ami make his headquarters at the New 
Yni'k den in Wafer street. Let a good man 
tie detailed to watch him and do nothing 
else tin furtlKn' orders. 

Officer— It s-hall be attended to, sir. 

Capt. — His any record been kept of the 
movements of hh wife — Moll, I think they 
call her? 

Officer — Yei--, sir; she was seen lately 
ia Orange 

Capt. — We'll have luisiness enough soon. 
Since that lellow's eonviciion the gipsies 
luive l:een scarce aiouud here. They'll be 
back now, you'll find 

["Eiiit r R.tns mirt policcin m, wi h Jake in 
iri'iis.] 

Rans — You don't know me, Captain 
Wiley, liul eveiybo ly knows j^ou I am 
Mr. Peter God fre\'s tor, man. I wish a 



private interview,! without delay, 

Capt. — In connection with this arrest ? ' 

Rans — Yes, sir. 

Capt. — Officers, remove the prisoner to 
another room. [Exit officers with Jake.] 

Rans — Being sent to the mansion of Mr., 
Dubois on Orange mountain this morning, 
to examine the water works, I accidentally 
discovered that a gang of aipsies intend to 
rob that house to-night. Part of the gang 
are in the employ of Mr. Dubois, and the 
man just brought in was the messenger 
who came to notify them. I followed him 
after he left and took him prisoner. The 
others are not aware of his capture. If he 
can he favored he will tell all he knows. 

[Capt. sounds bell. OflBcer enters and 
salutes.] 

Capt. — Bring in the prisoner. 

[Ent'T officers, with Jake.] 

Capt. — Officers, you may retire. [Exit 
officers.] 

Capt, — What's your name ? 

Jake — If I'll tell everything will ye let 
me off ? 

Capt. — Yes. 

Jake — They call me ''Jake," Big Jim, 
the gipsy, with two pals from New York, 
are going to roh the house on Orange moun- 
tain to-night. Big Moll, Jim's wife, has 
worked there for a month, and another one 
of the gangj is the gen'lraan's coachman. 
That's all. 

Capt. — There'll he five in the party ? 

Jake — Yes, countin' Moll one. If ye 
count her two, there'll be six. She's as 
good as two. 

Capt. — What sort of arms will they 
have? 

Jake — Pistols and knives, .and they'll 
use 'em if they have to. 

Capt. — You talk pretty freely. 

Jake — Waal, didn't ye say jnu'd let me 
off? I v^'ant you to gobble this crowd. I'd 
a left 'em long ago if I could '..' got av\ay. 
You better send men enough and be there 
before ten o'clock to-ni, hu Now you can 
just knock off the.-e brace!eis,if 30U please, 
and I'll go. 

Capt. [rings bell; officers enter] — I guess 
you'd better stay with us to niuht, if your 
bu>iness isn't too pressing. Officers, take 
good care of this man- Put him in No 1. 
[Officers remove prisoner.] 

Rans — Now you know all. I will vol- 
unteer to go with you and do my share ia 
cipturing these people,but let us have men 
enough to overawe them from the start ;and 
I have one favor to ask, wliichis, that your 
men will not shoot anybody 



Capt. — ^They have ■standing orders never 
to shout if it can be avoided. 

Rans — Will you go yourself 1 

Capt. — Yes, witli eight men, and we 
will iie at the intersection of the two roads 
at the foot of the hili at eight o'cio k. We 
will go out one 63' one-, so as 10 attract mo 
attention. 

Rans — And I will returH to the mount- 
ain. Mr. Dubois will undoubt«t!ly be hack 
1 will put him on liis guard, and be at the 
i-endezvous. 

Capt. — All right. Eight o'clock, 

Rans. — Yes. [Exit,] 

Capt — That ''young fellow is fit to be 

Chief of Police. [Exit.] 
.<» 

SCENE III.— [Balcony of Dubois" man- 
siou. Dinah feeding canaries.] 
Dlnah [fcingsj 

"Didn't my Lord 
D'liver Daniel, 
D'liver Daniel, 
. D'liver Daniel, 
And why not a-ev-e ry man ? 
He delivered Daniel 
From (]elioD''s den, 
Jonah fro^n de belly of de whale; 
And de Hebrew chil-ren 
From de fiery furnace. 
And why not a ev ery man ? 
Didn't my Lord 
D'Uver Daniel, 
D'liver Daniel, 
D'liver Danie , 
And why not a-ev-ery man?" 
{Enter Mr. Dubois, uiK)b8erv>-d hv Dinah .J 
Look out, you yjiller bird ! Don't you 
peck my finders, ynu little half breed ! 
You ain't, noflSn but a merlarter. no how, 
D. n't 30U go to puttin' on no airs wid me. 
Guess yoUjS glad enough I'se back agin, 
Lo('k out clerc, look out 1 

Me. D.— Faiiblul Id < reature ! There 
are no hou^e servants iu the world that can 
compare with tbeie col red women from 
the South. 

Dinah [singd] 

"Gwiiie to vvrie to Massa Jesus, 
To v-^end seinl sunie valiant soldier 
to turn back Iharaoh's ar ny. 

Hallelu! 
To turn back Pharaoh's army, 

Halle. uyah ! 
To turn lia k Pharaoh's ar iv, 

Halle-lu ! 
Mr. D. — Where did you leai'u to smg, 
Dinah. 

Dinar — Goodness golly ! Massa Dubois, 
you here, and I been a makiu' all dis yere 
rumpus. 

Mb. D. — Then 's no harm done, Dinah. I 
always like to see every one happy. But 
vvheie did you learn to sing ? 

Dinah — Jes same as de birds, Massa Du- 



bois. Down dere in ole Kentucky de nig- 
gers all used to sing, all de time, De little 
picanninnies went to siugin' jes as quick as 
dey could nm around. I speck de Lord 
learn 'em, jes same as he learn de birds. 
[Enter Rans.] 

Rans — Mr. Dubois, I presume, 

Mr. D. — That is my name, sir. 

[Exit Dioah.j 

Rans — I have this tetter to you,sir,from 
Mr. vjtodlrey. 

Mr, D. [reads letter aloud.] 
My Dear \ir Dubois : 

This will he eiveu to you by my foreman. 

Mr KnQS Roiaaay, who will examine tbe water 

ram ami iis connections" As I have already 

Slid to ynu. you may rely upo his judgment. 

Yours truly, Peter Godfrey. 

I am glad to see you, sir. Will you pro- 
ceed to business at once ? 

Rans — I was here this morning, sir, and 
saw the pipes in the stable. All that you 
lequire is a larger pipe, say about two 
inches in diameter. 

Me. D. — Do I understand you, that 
when this ram fails to send up a three- 
quarter stream, y ^u can remedy it by in- 
creasing the column to two inches ? Pre- 
posterous ! 

Rans — That is Just what I mean. Mi-. 
Dubois. It is purely a question of friction, 
but there is more important business to talk 
about now. I discovered this morning that 
your house is to be attacked to-ni_ht by a 
band of gipsy robbers. Your coachman 
and other of your servants belong to the 
gang. Tlie police are informed and will 
be here in force at 10 o'clock. Your place 
will be surrounded and the robbers cap- 
tured. Do not breathe a word to any of 
your people; do not alarm your ladies; let 
all retire early. Have every light extin- 
guished, but be ready to give us light 
quickly"when called for; and above all, do 
not attempt to assist us yourself, as you 
might be mistaken for one of the robbers. 

Me. D. — You are a stranger to me, sir. 
I don't exactly like this handing over the 
defence of my premises to others. 

Rans -I appreciate your position. Mi'. 
Dubois, but a moment's refiection will 
show you that nothing else can lie don-i un- 
der the circumstances. 

Me. D. — Yes, tiiat is so. I think I can 
trust you, my young friend. I will trutt 
you — here's my band 

Rans — Good-bj'^e, then, sir, till lo-uiglit. , 
Make no change in the programme, pleas-e.- 
[Exit Rans.] 

Me. D. — What a magnificent fellow ! I 
dou't wonder at Godfrey's entlii>ia?m. Fle 
comes to me with news calculated to strike 



a man with panic, and be leave? me almost 
free from apprehensiou. I will obey his 
orders implieilly. Stop — no, I will not. I 
will c;ill in my friend ojid neighbor, Dr. 
Alexander. His surgical skill may be re- 
quired, but what I must want him tor is liis 
army experience. He will enjoy this epi- 
sode, and his calm courage will be of infi- 
nite value to me. [Exit.] 

ACl^IV. 

SCENE I.— [The Dubois mansion. 
Night; -wind; distant thunder, etc.] 

[Enter Rans, Capt. "Wiley and Sergeant. 

Capt. Wilet [to Sergeant] — Place the 
men two hundred feet apart all around the 
mansion and up and down the road. Not a 
wort, must be spoken. When the robbers 
arrive let them pass through the lines. Let 
eveiy man stand in his position till he hears 
my signal; then rally with all speed to the 
rear door. We two vvill guard the front. 
Now go. [Exit Sergeant.] 

[Grows very dark; wind rises; blinds 
slam; lightning; distant thunder.] 

[Enter Big Jim and two robbers, who 
pass to stable. Coachman admits them and 
closes door, Raus and Capt. Wilej' watch. 
More thunder.] 

Rans— They will L se no time. They 
will wish to be as far away as possible at 
tiay break. 

Capt. W. — They are still at the stable. 

Rans —I think u(!t. 

[Kat\ kid sings; another answers.] 

Cap. W. — 'i hat's the fir.-t katydid I have 
heard this year 

Rans — Call in your men ! Tha's a gip-* 
sy signal ! 

Capt. W — What do you know about 
gipsy signals? 

Rans — Call in your men ! Lose no 
time ! They are at the back door now. 
Oiill in youi- men, 1 say ! 

[Dark lantern flashes around corner of 
building ] 

[Capt W. blows whistle; men heard 
running; dark hintein opens and closes; 
fighting and ^^hnutiug heard in the rear 
fjonl door opens and Big Jim rushes out, 
closely pursued liy Dr. Alexander and Mr. 
Dubois. Jim springs from the balcony 
and is seized liy CapL Wihy and Rms 
Jim draws pistel and fires at Rans, who 
falls heavily. Capt Wiley fires and 
brings I'oun Big Jim 

Dr. Alexander — Serves the scoundrel 
right ! Slu ot him aaain ! 

Capt. W.- Gentlemen, there's no cau.-e 
for e.\citement; it's all iver. 



Me. D. —It's all over with that young 
man, I fear. Doct )r, won't you attend to 
him at once ? 

Db. a.— Yes, I don't think I shall 
waste much time on this infernal scoundrel 
here. [Spurns Jim with his foot; exam- 
ines Rans.] 

Capt. W. — I'm veiy glad you are here, 
doct(ir. 

* De. a — I'm very glad to be here, Cap- 
tain. You're a surgeon, too, I believe? 

Capt. W. — That's what they call me at 
headquarters. 

De. a. — I hope you will remain here 
awhile. This case will demand all our 
united pkill. There's no pulse; I'm afraid 
he's dead. We had better cany him into 
the house, v«'here we can have light. 

Capt. W. — Yes, let him be carried in, 
at once. [Rans carried in ] And, Ser- 
geant, take the prisoners all to th stable, 
and place a strong guard over them till 
morning, Look out for this big fellow;- he 
may come to, suddenlv. Search him for 
arms, and handcuff him, dead or alive. 
Place a bundle of straw under his head, and 
if he revives send for me at the house. 
[Enters house. ] 

Ofeicee — Aye, aye, sir. [Prisoners 
taken to stable.] 

Capt. W. [returning] — Where's that 
w-oman Moll? Has she escaped in the 
confusion ? Search every part of the 
grounds immediately ! [Exeunt.] 

SCENE II. — [Summer house, suri'ound- 
el with shrubbery.] 

[Enter Moll, pursued by Dinah. [ 

Moll — Take yer iiands off from me, you 
nigger, or I'll brain ye ! 

Dinah — Who you call ni.fger. you ole 
dish rag? ' You ain't white uuflfto put on 
no ail s wid me. I've been looking for you 
ever since dis yere mu^s begun I jess 
take five or six such white tr;ish as you. 

[Moil draws a knife and advances upon 
Dinah. Dinah rolls up her sleeves anl 
sings.] 

I'm a rolling, 
I'ii] a rollirit;, 

I'.-n a rolling thruush an unfriendly world; 
I'u} a rollintc, 

I'm a rclliuK thrcugi an unfriendly world; 

[Enter police, and disarm Moll, who 
clinches Dinah and is thrown down. Di- 
nah sings : 

"Roll Jor.hinroij," 
Roll -jurdan roll."' 
[Police place Moll in irons,] 
OFFiOEii— Now, Aunt^', you on tike 
j(.ur prisoner to the .-table, where the oth 



era are. 

Moll — Take your hands ofE from me, 
you nigger ! 

Dinah— no, missus Moll ! Guess T 
better keep 'em on. Yes, I think I will 
keep 'em on. Now — steady dar ! steady ! 
Jess face around little more towards de sta- 
ble door. You'll travel better forards dan 
you will backards. Dar now; steady, 
steady. March to de music. [Sings.] 
When Pharaoh crossed de water, 
De waters came together 
And drowned ole Pharaoh's armv, 

Halfe-lu ! 
And drowneJ ole Pharaoh's army, 

Halle-lu-j ah ! 
And drowned ole Pharaoh's armv> 

Hal!e-lu ! 

[Exeunt Dinah and prisoner, police 
bringing up the rear. ] 

SCENE III.— t Parlor of Dubois' man- 
sion.] 

[Rans lying on lounge,8urrounded by Dr. 
Alexander, Capt. Wiley and Mr. Dubois.] 

[Enter Lucy and Mrs. Lawrence, in 
wrappers and with hair disheveled. Seeing 
Rans. they both scream and faint. Mr. 
Dubois lays Mrs. Lawrence on sofa. Capt. 
"Wiley places Lucy on another at the oppo- 
site side]. 

Me. D. — Attend to the young man first, 
Doctor. Perchance he may be saved. The 
ladies have only fainted at seeing his ghast- 
ly face. 

De. a. — The ball has entered his side. 
Neither his heart nor his lungs move. 
He's dead. Splendid anatomy. Captain — 
finest I ever saw ! See what a chest ! Ha ! 
what 8 ihat ? Puts his ear to chest. He 
lives ! he lives ! Let him be taken to a 
room, undressed and placed upon a bed, 
without delay. Show us where to go, Mr. 
Dubois. The Captain and I can carry him 
best. Be quick. 

Me. D. — This way. Doctor. 

[Exit Ml-. D., followed by Doctor and 
Captain W., carrying out Rans.] 

Mes. D. [reviving] — Lucy dear. 

Ltjot [reviving] — What I "Where am I ? 
Who spoke ! 

Mes. L. — It IS I, Mrs. Lawrence. 

Lucy — Is this an awful dream, or is he 
dead? 

Mes. L. — Is who dead ? 

LuoT- -My love ! my darling ! The 
idol of my dreams. 

Mrs. L. — My dear, you are raving. 

Ltjot — No, no, no, no ! I saw him ly- 
ing on the lounge. It is he ! He rescued 
the child from the surf 1 Where is he now? 
He is dead — he is dead ! They have taken 



his body away ! 

Mes. L. — Ah ! my child, strange fancies 
come over ue women at times. You know 
I fainted at the lake. I saw the same face, 
and I fancied it the very image of my hus- 
band's, who died long years ago. This 
young man is doubtless Mr. Godfrey's fore- 
man. Resemblances are too ctimmon in 
this world to be regarded as any tangible 
evidence. 

[Enter Dr. Alexander and Mr.Dubois.l 
Mr. D.— Lucy ! 
Luoy — Father ! They embrace. 
De. a. — Well, ladies, you have recov- 
ered without my assistance. 

Mes. L. — Yes, thank you, Doctor; and 
now tell us what all this excitement is 
about. What is this dreadful battle that 
has been raging ? Who is this young man 
that is wounded ? Is he living or dead ? 

Lttcy — Yes, tell us quickly. Is he dead 
or living ? 

Me. D. — I cannot explain everything 
now; but a plan to rob the house has been 
frustrated by the energy and courage of 
Mr. Godfrey's foreman. He is seriously 
wounded, but we hope not fatally. 

Lucy [clings to her father, hysterically] 
— Then he is not dead, he is not dead ! 
Thank Heaven ! Thank Heaven he is not 
dead ! 

De. a. — Be calm, my child. Thtse gun- 
shot wounds are often less serious than 
they at first appear. No one must see him 
for several days, but the Doctor and a 
nurse; but who will be his nurse? 
Mks. L. — I will volunteer. 
Dr. a. — You ? Why you fainted. You 
won't do for a nurse. 

Mes. L. — I shall not faint again, Doctor. 
I think the great excitement we have all 
been under might be accepted as a good ex- 
cuse. 

De. a. — Very well, then; but you must 
not speak a word to the patient. He must 
have ab^Iute quiet; everything depends 
upon it. If he lives one week he will be 
out of danger. Come with me at once to 
his room and I will give you written direc- 
tions. We must relieve Capt. Wiley, who 
is with h»m now. [Lucy embraces Mrs. 
Lawrenc .] 

[Exeunt, Dr. A. and Mrs. L , R; Lucy 
lean ng on Mr. D., L.] 

ACT V. 

SCENE I.— [The garden.] 

[Enter Lucy.l 

LuoT — How happy I have been for a 
few short weeks. He lives ! Under good 
Dr. Alexander's skilful hands, and with 



clear Mrs. Lawrence's careful nursing he is 
almost well. He is under my father's roof, 
but O ! it makes me tremble. Although I 
love him lie does not love me. He has 
never seen me, nor even heard of me. O, 
dreadful thought ! What if he loves an- 
other ! 

[Enter Mrs. Lawrence, and Lucy weeps 
upon her shoulder.] 

Mrs. L. — Why these tears, m}' child ? 
Dry them quicklv. Look! Mr. Romauy 
is coming into the garden, by permission of 
Dr. Alexander, to enjoy the balmy air of 
our beautiful Indian summer. [Enter 
Raus, with cane.] Permit me, Miss Du- 
bois, to introduce our brave defender, Mr. 
Romany. 

Rans — If you praise my bravery so 
highly, madam, what shall I say of my 
faithful nurse, to whom I am sure I owe my 
life? 

Ltjoy — I shall agree with you both; but 
indeed, Mr. Romany, you must allow us to 
express our gratitude, as well as our con- 
gratulations. 

Rans — Well, ladies, so be it, then; and 
now let us talk of something else. Is it be- 
cause I have been bed- ridden, or is this 
really the most beautiful spot on earth ? 
Are we in Orange, or is this below us the 
valley of Casiimere? Or is it a glori(jus 
dream ? Or is it Paradise ? 

Mes. ! . — I do not wonder at your en- 
thusiasm, Mr. Romany. It is very lovely 
here, and these balmy November days sur- 
pass in loveliness all others of the year. 
Miss Lucy, you will entertain Mr. Ro- 
many, will you not, while I attend to some 
domestic affairH ? 

LircT — I will try, Mrs. Lawrence. [Exit 
Mrs. Lawrence.] Shall we walk through 
the grounds, Mr. Romany ? There is a fine 
view from the arbor. I will go fur our 
glass. [Retires into house.] 

Rans — Magnificent ! Wbat beauty ! 
What eyes ! What a voice ! I would die 
a thousand deaths to rescue such &n angel ! 
But stop ! Who am I ? So the gates of 
Heaven itself will close to keep me out ! 
I hear them novp turning upon their hinges. 
Better far to have died by father's hand. 
What right have I to live ? 

[Lucy returns with field glass.] 
Ltjoy — Can you walk without pain, sir ? 
Rans — O yes, indeed; I feel no pain 
whatever. 

Ltjoy — Then we will go this way, 
Rans — Do you know who I am ? 
Ltjoy [with surprise] — Why, yes. You 
are Mr. Romany, a great inventor, and the 



youngest foreman in the world. 

Rans— What if I were the son of Big 
Jim, the gipsy robber? 

LtrcY — I' don't know that I should care. 

Rans [kisses her like lightning] —Forgive 
me ! O loriiive me, angelic maiden ! [Falls 
on his knees] I knew not what 1 did. 
O lovely maiden, forgive, forgive ! 

LuoY — O, Mr. Romany ! I am very 
young and inexperienced. [Rans rises to 
his feet.] I will not deny to you that I am 
wild with joy at your recovery. I will 
forgive you this time; but mind, never, 
never again. Come, we will walk this 
way. I will show you some beautiful 
views. [Exeunt.] , 

SCENE II. — [Summer house, surround- 
ed with shrubbery. ] 

[Enter Mis. Lawrence, much agitated, 
reading a letter.] 

Mes. L.-^This is very strange ! My 
brain whirls .' Oh ! what is life that we 
should so cling to it ? This sweet, sweet 
letter, coming as from the other world ! 
But no ! it's suggestions caLnot be true ! 
[Kisses the letter. 

[Enter (Tipsy Jak>",through thebur^hes.] 

Who's there ? 

Jake — Don't be frightened, lady. You 
needn't be scared o' me. I've sulhin' very 
important to tell ye, and I want to see ye 
alone. If you'll go down the broad path 
to the hedge, I'll stand on the outside in 
the road, and there I can talk to ye and no- 
body'll see me. You needn't be scared o' 
me. It's very important. [Exit Jake.] 

Mes. L. — What can this rough looking 
man want with me ? His voice is kindly; 
I have nothing to fear I'll go down to 
the hedge, at all events. [Exit] 



SCENE III.— [Mr. Dubois' library. 

[Mr. I ). seated. Enter Mr. Godfrey.] 

Me. D. — Good morning, Godfrey. 

Me. Q. — Good moriiing, Mr. Dubois. 

Me. D. — You received my letter, I sup- 
pose ? 

Me. G. — Yes, sir; and While I deeply ap- 
preciated yokr kindness, it's contents gave 
me great anxiety. 

Me. D. — How is your suit progressing, 
Mr. Godfrey? 

Me. G. — ^I confess 1 do not appear to be 
making much progress. Miss Lucy always 
treats me with marked politeness, but she 
has a scared sort of look whenever I see 
her alone, which always scares me, and so 
I have never yet had an opportunity pre • 
sented for any private conversation. 



[They light cigars and smoke in silence, 
looking at each other.]] 

Mr. D.— Your foreman is getting about 
well enough to go to business, isn't he? 
[Pulls bell rope, ] 

Me. G. — I should say so, [After a 
pause.] Does Mrs. Lawrence enjoy your 
daughter's fullest confidence ? 

Me. D. — Yes, undoubtedly; she is almost 
a mother to her. 

Me. G. — I have great respect for that 
lady's character and good judgment. 

Me.D. — She's a very remarkable woman, 
Godfrey; a very remarkable woman. 

Me. G. — Suppose we bring her into our 
counsels. 

Me. D. — Capital idea. "We'll call her in; 
but first let us see the young man. I wish 
these servants would answer the bell. 

Dinah [singing off stage] — 

"My massa died a' shouting, 
Singing Glory Halleluyah ! 
De last word he said to me 
Was 'bout Jerusalem." 

Did you ring for mo, Massa Dubois? 

Me. D. — Yes. Tell the young man, Mr. 
Romany, that Mr. Godfrey is in the li- 
brary. 

Dinah — Yes, Massa Dubois; dat's a aw- 
ful nice young man. [Aside.] Guess 
Miss Lucy think dat's so, too, Dey're to- 
gedder all de time, Heyah, heyah, heyah ! 
[Exit, singing : 

"My missus died a' shouting, 
Singing Glory Halleluyah ! 
De last word she said to me 
Was 'bout Jerusalem." 

Me. D.- — That woman's always singing. 
We have tried to stop her, but she's per- 
fectly irrepressible. Did Captain Wiley 
ever tell you the particular's about her cap- 
turing Moll ? 

Me. G.— No. 

Mr. D, — It was very funny. I'll tell you 
about it sometime. I guess I had better 
invite Mrs. Lawrence to meet us in the 
parlor after dinner. 

Me. G, — Well, do so; the sooner the 
better. 

[Enter Rans.] 

Me. G, — Why, good morning, Rans, 

Rans — Good morning, Mr. Godfrey. 

Me. G. — Why ! how exceedingly well 
you are looking. You're getting as good as 
new. 

Rans — Well, yes, Mr. Godfrey. I'm 
picking up pretty rapidly. I've had the 
best doctor and the grandest lady I ever 
saw taking care of me, you know,gand Mr. 
Dubois here has been very, very kind. 

Me. D. — We've only done our duty, my 



dear fellow; paying our honest debts, you 
know. I never like to be in debt. 

Rans — How are things getting on below, 
Mr, Godfrey ? I think every day how you 
need me. I shall be at work again soon 
now. 

Me.G. — I'm glad to hear you say so; but 
you musn't overdo. In about another 
week you can be on hand, can't you ? You 
needn't do much, you know; just simply 
oversee. 

Rans — Rest assured, Mr. Godfrey, I 
shall not lose a day unnecessarily. 

[An awkward silence.] 

Rans [Aside — They are very cool. Can 
they have learned who I am. ] Good morn- 
ing, gentlemen. 

Me, D. and Mr. G, — Good morning, 
Rans, good morning. [Exit Rans.] 

Me, G. — That's a very excellent young 
man. 

Me. D. — He seems so. It's not easy 
nowadays to get and retain really valuable 
help. They want to get on too fast. As 
soon as they learn the business they want 
to go, I suppose. 

Me. G. — Yes, yes, we have a great deal 
of trouble of that kind, especially in a bus- 
iness like mine. 

Me. D. — Come, let's go into the parlor, 
and I'll send for Mrs. Lawrence at once. 
[Exeunt.] 

SCENE IV.— [Parlor.] 
[Enter Mr. Dubois and Mr. Godfrey.] 

Me. D. — Did you notice her when I 
spot'! to her in the hall ? 

^_E. G. — I noticed that she was looking 
rt .na^'kably well. 

Me. D. — Til. 's what I mean. She was 
perfect^ radiant. Why, she [looked 
scarce' V thirty. I tbWk a great deal of 
that woman, Godfrey; I wish I knew her 
past history. 

[Ed er Mrs. Lawrence.] 

Please be seated, madam. [Hands her 
to a seat.] 

Me. D. [conl,inues] — Mrs. Lawience,you 
a-'e in Mr. God Trey's confidence, as well as 
m ne and my daughter's, and we have con- 
ciud d to ask you to talk frankly with us 
rsspecting do-nestic affa'''s which are of 
Utmost impo'tance to us all. You are 
aware ^hat Mr. Godfrey is a suitor for my 
daughter's hand, and you ' lunot fail to be 
aware that the young mar who has received 
oov hospit lity for some weeks, has suc- 
ceeded in eolisting her affec'.ions. Now, 
madam, we have concluded to af k your val- 
uable assistance in guiding and directing 
this young and inexperienced girl to a prop- 



er decision. Will you be so kind as to give 
us your \ lews ? 

Mes.L. — Mr. Dubois, much as I regret to 
say an unwelcome thiug, my judgment is 
that Lucy will not willingly consent to be- 
come the wife of Mr. Godfrey. I know 
that she has for him i He - mosfc respect, but 
her heart is Mr. Komany's. 

Mr. D. [starting irom nis chair] — T shall 
• ever cd ^ent to her marrying a common 
luechanic. 

Me. G. — And I, too, should be much 
mortified if I snoold be rejected in favor of 
my foreman, whom I took from 1 • 8t.o9t. 

Mes L. — Gentlemen, we mn=!t reme-Bbec 
that Mr. ^ maiy is no common mec^a -'c. 
I think we have your auti ority, have we 
not, Mr. God rey, that he is a great me- 
chp"*"il geoius ^nd ioveator? 

Me. D. — j^re you in a conspiracy, Mrs. 
Lawicnce, to destroy me and my "amily ? 

Mes L. — Heaven forbid. Mr. Drboi<j ! I 
have been 'nvited >o your consultcion, and 
can do no more than f,ive you my honest 
convictions. I am honest in them, aid it 
this be doubted I will at once retiie. 

Me. T>. — Pardon me, Mrs. Lawrence; 
but you I'oow a'-'aiha s solicii^ude for his 
only cbilu. WiU you '.ell x^t what you 
k) .woftheyoujg man — whrt h:3 passed 
^. etwee 1 bi.n a Locy ? 

Mp-5. L.— I V; ' , Mr. Dabois, and the 
unwc'come iauel'i^ence must be that her 
hepro is wholly b's. I bad .'nteuded to in- 
foini you is veiy evening. 

Me. D. — Who is this w.otch, who enters 
my house for spoliation ? 

Mes. L. — For spoliation, Mr. Dubo's ^ 
Was not his object io prevent spoliation! 
Did he not hazard and nearly lose bis life 
thereby ? Come, Mr. Dubois, we must be 
just ourselves. 

Me. D. [burie-s Ms face in his hands, and 
groans.] — 111 s^e weal '^andsocla poiiition; 
I have b^ i the arcbi. Xt; of my own io - 
tune; I had fondly hoi>ed that for my only 
daughter, my only child, there was a suit- 
able future, v-o cheer me in my declining 
yer ;. I have spaied no expense upon her 
educat' n; I have watched over her, and 
ioved her, and tenderly guarded her. Now 
in heartless ' agratitude she throws herself 
away on a mere mechanic. Who is this 
Rans Romany ? [Loud knock at parlor 
door. ] Why do the servants trouble me at 
such a time ? There is no discipline in this 
house ! Come in ! 

[Enter Rans.) 
Rans — I was passing through the hall,Mr. 
Dubois,and heard your loud inquiryconcern- 



ing me. It is a question you have a right 
to ask, and one which it is my duty to an- 
swer. I am the son of the leaders of the 
gang who attempted to rob your house. I 
have been shot down by my own father in 
defending your premises. If I have loved 
Lucy Dubois, and do love her, it is no 
more tlian any man must do who knows 
he. 8he has told me to-day that Mr.God- 

ey is a suitor for her hand. I have done 
you no wrong, Mr. Dubo'b; nor you, Mr. 
Godfrey. I am rot worthy of her hand, 
but I am of he^' hr^art. Before God I am 
honest in this. If I am not an honest man, 
wiy nerd I tell you that I am a gipsy ? I 
will leave this house at once, and this coun- 
try to-morrow. I will never see Lucy 
again. Can I do moie, gentlemen ? 

Mes. L. — Gentlemen, hear my revela- 
tion. I, too, am sailing under false colors, 
but I have done no harm and will do none. 
A foolish womanly pride has led me to 
conceal my real name and history. I could 
nou bear the descent from my former social 
poijitioo. I was unwilling that the widow 
of an army officer, and the granddaughter 
of Rob. t Fulton, should be known in the 
subo"d' a te capacity of housekeeper,and so 
I assumed the name of Mrs, Lawrence, 
with the f nil knowledge of all my friends, 
t i.though a^;. "nst the'r advice. I now see I 
was wio tg, but all are wrong sometimes, I 
supn ,, and pardon me, you are all wrong 
now — '^very one. You, Mr. Dubois, in the 
false p j.de which would cause you to reject 
a .suitor for your daughter's hand because 
he is a mechanic; you, Mr. Godfrey, in 
p:essiog a suit for a lady's hand ■without 
he-: heart; and you, Mr. Romany, in for one 
moment admitting yourself to be uuworthj' 
of the hand of Miss Dubois Be still, my 
heart ! Be still ! [Takes from her pocket 
a 1' 'ter, which she opens and holds aloft.] 
This mor- ing I received this letter. It is 
from the other world ! It contains my 
husband's last words to me as he was going 
to his death upon the feattle field. It has 
lain in the sepulchre of dead letters; it has 
been rescued from buiniug by one who 
knew him in the army, and saved it for his 
sake; it has sought me in every pension of- 
fice in the land, and at last reached me to- 
day. [She reads the letter aloud.] 

Dearest Wife : 

We are awaiting orders for a charge. For 
years I have concealed from you a belief that 
the child we buried was not the one I saw on 
tne night of its birth. How could it become 
completely emaciated in three days ? You 
were insensible, and never knew the differ- 
ence, and when your grief was assuaged it 



■would do no good to tell you my suspicio'is; 
but I have never been able o shake cfEthe be- 
lief that our beautiful child was taken away 
and a wretched starveling substituted. If it 
be so, and our boy still lives, should aught 
befall me, may God in his wisdom and mercy 
bring him to you. 

Darling, I have just been breveted "Gen- 
eral !" The drum beats — :he bugle sounds. 
Adieu ! Your loving husband, 

Randolph Romaine. 

Ar>d now ^he s>angest part! Tt^v^eii as I 
was read'^g Lhe letter in tie arbor, a man 
c?me through the shrubbery, ci'liug himself 
Gipsy Jake, wao tolc' me that he was the 
one who gave information of the robbery. 
He knew my real name, for I had been re- 
coiJ-ni ^ed by the woma a Moll Tvhon she was 
in this house. He said that thecbUd I bjv- 
ied was rot my own, but had been changed 
byl.er, v\ijeu ehe was my nurse, wbUe I 
lay ; aseiisible, for my great, cjpleudid boy, 
who ran away from them eleven years ago 
when they were encamping at Lake Hopn.t- 
coDg. ""he name they had given him was 
Kans Roman r ! 

Ra.ns — Ti_y mother ! Oh, my mother! 
!Now Indeed I can obey the Commandment, 
"Honoi thy fai-^er and thy mother." 

[She falls into hi;: arms; he covers her 
forehead with k'sses.] 

Me. D. (sobbing violently)— Godfrey, I 
guess I'm an old fool. 

Me. G. (also sobbing) — I guess I'm pn- 
other. 

[Enter Lucy. ] 

Ltjot — Why, what is all the matter ? Is 
there another robbery ? 

[Enter Dinah.] 

Me. D. — Come here, Lucy. Strange 
levelations have been made to-day. Lei 
me introduce you to Mrs, General Ro- 
maine. 

Mrs. L. — And to my son, Mr. Randolph 
Romaine. There was a robbery many 
years ago, when Randolph was a baby; but 
restitution has been made to-day. 

Mu. G. — No, not yet; not fall restitution. 
Come, Mr. Romaine. 

Rans — No, no, Mr, Godfrey; call me 
Rans. 

Mn. G. (places Lucy's hand in that of 



Rans) — This is the only reparation I can 
make for all my foolish blunders. 

Ltjot — Oh, Mr. Godfrey, you are indeed 
our friend. 

Me. G. — Come, Mr. Dubois, the father's 
blessing. It is like a play. Let us make a 
tableau. 

Me. D. — Well, Mrs. Romaine, will you 
take my hand; that is will you accept my 
hand ? You have long had my heart. 

Mes. L. — I am blown like a thistle down 
before the wind, but I know it is a-friendly 
gale. It gave me back my boy — — 

Me. D. — Let it give you also a husband 
and a home. 

Me. G. — Come, come, the tableau. (And 
he arranges Mr. Dubois and Mrs. Law- 
Lawrence, right centre; Rans and Lucy, 
left centre; Mr. Godfrey, right, and Dinah 
comes down stage unobserved, and taking 
the left, commences to sing.) 

Mes. L. and Ltjoy — Why I Dinah ! 
Dinah ! 

Me. D. — Hush ! She is in an ecstacy, 
and so am I ! Let us bury our false pride. 
Let not the lessons of to-day be lost so 
soon. Go on, Dinah, and we will join in 
the chorus. 

Dinah (sings) — 

"Swing low, sweet chariot, 

Comin' for to carry me home; 
Swing low, sweet chariot, 
Comin' for to carry me home. 
I looked oyer Jordan and what did I sec, 

Comin' for to carry me home, 
A band of angels comin' after me, 

Comin' for to carry me home." 

Me. D. — Chorus ! (AM sing.) 

"Swing low, sweet chariot, 
Comin' for to carry me home; 

Swing low, sweet chariot, 
Comin' for to carry me home." 

(Curtain falls.) 



[Entered according to act of Congress in the 
year 1876, by Henry Hill, in the office of the 
Librarian of Congress, at Washington.] 



,i^fi'?«'?y OF 




